Authors: Jean Bedford
Tha
t
afternoo
n
I
looke
d
fo
r
he
r,
no
t
ver
y
thoroughl
y,
an
d
calle
d
ou
t
t
o
he
r
softl
y.
Whe
n
sh
e
didn’
t
answe
r
I
though
t
sh
e
wa
s
upstair
s
aslee
p.
The
n,
jus
t
as
I
wa
s
leavin
g
th
e
hous
e
I
hear
d
a
rhythmi
c
thumpin
g
comin
g
fro
m
th
e
passag
e.I
unlocke
d
th
e
littl
e
doo
r
underneat
h
th
e
stair
s
an
d
foun
d
he
r.
Sh
e
wa
s
i
n
onl
y
a
cotto
n
petticoa
t,
an
d
ther
e
wer
e
fres
h
bloodstain
s
o
n
it
s
la
p.
Sh
e
wa
s
silen
t
fo
r
onc
e,
no
t
hummin
g
o
r
moanin
g,
bu
t
sh
e
wa
s
repeatedl
y
bangin
g
her hea
d
bar
d
agains
t
th
e
wal
l.I
lifte
d
th
e
shif
t
an
d
sa
w
th
e
bloo
d
smear
s
o
n
he
r
inne
r
thigh
s,
spreadin
g
fro
m
he
r
hairles
s,
innocen
t
cun
t.I
picke
d
he
r
u
p
an
d
too
k
he
r
t
o
th
e
bathroo
m.I
washe
d
he
r
wit
h
a
ho
t
flanne
l
an
d
pu
t
he
r
int
o
a
clea
n
nightdres
s
an
d
tucke
d
he
r
int
o
he
r
be
d.
Sh
e
close
d
he
r
eye
s
immediatel
y
an
d
wen
t
t
o
slee
p.I
waite
d
unti
l
I
hear
d
he
r
sof
t
snore
s,
the
n
I
wen
t
t
o
th
e
she
d
an
d
remove
d
m
y
father’
s
shotgu
n
fro
m
it
s
ledg
e
an
d
loade
d
i
t.I
walke
d
dow
n
t
o
th
e
platea
u
wher
e
w
e
gre
w
ou
r
vegetable
s,
th
e
gu
n
hel
d
stiffl
y
vertica
l
besid
e
m
y
le
g
.
I
ha
d
t
o
shoo
t
m
y
fathe
r
i
n
th
e
ar
m
befor
e
h
e
too
k
m
e
seriousl
y,
the
n
the
y
obeye
d
m
e.
The
y
walke
d
togethe
r
u
p
th
e
stee
p
pat
h
an
d
int
o
th
e
hous
e,
bloo
d
drippin
g
o
n
th
e
groun
d
behin
d
the
m.I
force
d
the
m
bot
h
int
o
th
e
cupboar
d
unde
r
th
e
stair
s
an
d
locke
d
th
e
doo
r.I
dragge
d
on
e
o
f
ou
r
sturd
y
kitche
n
chair
s
int
o
th
e
hal
l
an
d
jamme
d
i
t
unde
r
th
e
doorkno
b.
The
y
wouldn’
t
hav
e
muc
h
roo
m
t
o
mov
e,
th
e
tw
o
o
f
the
m
i
n
tha
t
smal
l
spac
e,
bu
t
I
neve
r
underestimate
d
the
m
.
I
go
t
petro
l
fro
m
th
e
dru
m
i
n
th
e
she
d
an
d
douse
d
th
e
chai
r
an
d
th
e
botto
m
o
f
th
e
stair
s.I
wen
t
bac
k
an
d
dre
w
anothe
r
cartfu
l
an
d
sprinkle
d
th
e
petro
l
aroun
d
th
e
kitche
n
an
d
livin
g
roo
m.
B
y
no
w
the
y
smelle
d
i
t
an
d
m
y
fathe
r
wa
s
shoutin
g
a
t
m
e,
threat
s
an
d
curse
s.
Th
e
cupboar
d
doo
r
shoo
k
a
s
h
e
trie
d
t
o
brea
k
ou
t,
bu
t
th
e
ol
d
hous
e
wa
s
solidl
y
buil
t,
o
f
goo
d
thic
k
ceda
r,
an
d
h
e
ha
d
fitte
d
th
e
heav
y
bolt
s
himsel
f.I
though
t
I
woul
d
hav
e
enoug
h
tim
e.I
wen
t
upstair
s
an
d
looke
d
a
t
m
y
sleepin
g
siste
r,
an
d
picke
d
u
p
a
pillo
w.
Whe
n
I
ha
d
don
e
wha
t
I
ha
d
t
o
d
o
ther
e,I
carried he
r
outsid
e,
rememberin
g
t
o
pic
k
u
p
th
e
petro
l
ca
n.I
lai
d
he
r
o
n
a
patc
h
o
f
gras
s
an
d
replace
d
th
e
ca
n
i
n
th
e
truc
k.
The
n
l
realise
d
wha
t
l
wa
s
doin
g,
an
d
I
too
k
th
e
ca
n
insid
e
agai
n.I
tippe
d
i
t
o
n
it
s
sid
e
o
n
th
e
kitche
n
floo
r,
a
s
i
f
i
t
ha
d
falle
n
fro
m
th
e
tabl
e.I
wen
t
int
o
th
e
livin
g
roo
m
an
d
too
k
on
e
o
f
m
y
father’
s
cigar
s
fro
m
th
e
forbidde
n
drawe
r
i
n
th
e
sideboar
d.I
li
t
i
t
fro
m
th
e
matche
s
i
n
th
e
kitche
n,
bein
g
carefu
l
t
o
hol
d
i
t
awa
y
fro
m
an
y
petro
l
fume
s,
the
n
lef
t
i
t
o
n
a
sauce
r
o
n
th
e
edg
e
o
f
th
e
tabl
e
t
o
bur
n
ou
t.I
trickle
d
th
e
dreg
s
o
f
th
e
petro
l
a
s
clos
e
t
o
th
e
ciga
r
a
s
I
dare
d
an
d
replace
d
th
e
ca
n
o
n
th
e
floo
r.
I
n
th
e
hallwa
y
th
e
chai
r
wa
s
rockin
g
an
d
th
e
doo
r
heave
d
a
s
i
f
ther
e
wa
s
a
might
y
explosio
n
insid
e
th
e
cupboar
d
waitin
g
t
o
happe
n.I
coul
d
hea
r
m
y
father’
s
lou
d
breathin
g
an
d
m
y
mother’
s
gasp
s
an
d
diminishe
d
crie
s.I
hurle
d
severa
l
lighte
d
matche
s
a
t
th
e
petro
l
trai
l
o
n
th
e
floo
r
befor
e
on
e
finall
y
caugh
t.
Fo
r
a
momen
t
I
watche
d,
fascinate
d,
a
s
th
e
flame
s
crawle
d
toward
s
th
e
poo
l
besid
e
th
e
stair
s;
the
n
ther
e
wa
s
a
whoos
h
an
d
a
sudde
n
blazin
g
eruptio
n,
an
d
l
ra
n.I
picke
d
u
p
m
y
siste
r
an
d
stumble
d
dow
n
t
o
th
e
rive
r,
wher
e
ther
e
wa
s
a
dee
p
hol
e
ful
l
o
f
yabbie
s,
an
d
larg
e
rock
s
t
o
pil
e
ove
r
he
r.
B
y
th
e
tim
e
I
cam
e
hac
k,
mos
t
o
f
th
e
hous
e
wa
s
gon
e
an
d
brigh
t
fir
e
li
t
u
p
th
e
yar
d
i
n
th
e
fallin
g
dus
k.I
race
d
aroun
d
fo
r
a
fe
w
minute
s
i
n
a
frenz
y,
whoopin
g
an
d
howlin
g
ou
t
m
y
reveng
e,
the
n
I
turne
d